


Unjust Impediments

by baroque_mongoose



Category: Girl Genius (Webcomic)
Genre: F/M, Weddings, Weirdness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-09
Updated: 2017-12-09
Packaged: 2019-02-12 16:39:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,333
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12963762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/baroque_mongoose/pseuds/baroque_mongoose
Summary: Trelawney Thorpe is now Trelawney Wooster, and she is writing to her friend the Hon Celia about the wedding.  It was the first wedding in England to have a best Jäger... and things just got stranger from there.





	Unjust Impediments

**Author's Note:**

> Good grief. Here am I, the Monarch of the Gen, writing a wedding. I just never get excited about pairings (apart from wishing Agatha would hurry up and make up her mind between Gil and Tarvek), but for some reason I love this one. And that wasn't a given by any means. I'd have cringed horribly if Mr Wooster had been put into a canon pairing I didn't like.
> 
> But Trelawney is wonderful. I think part of the reason I'm so overwhelmingly positive about the two of them together is that they're one of those couples that shouldn't work, but does. She's a powerful spark. He's a terrible worrier. That should be a recipe for disaster. But, y'know, love conquers all and so forth. And, just for once, it's actually conquered this totally unromantic old asexual.
> 
> I hope you enjoy the results. :-)

My poor dear Celia,

Really, there is no need whatsoever to feel guilty about something that was not in any way your fault. It was a dreadful accident, and it is quite bad enough for you to be stuck in hospital without worrying about the fact that you missed the wedding. I assure you, my eldest niece Penhaligon was delighted to find herself suddenly promoted to head bridesmaid, so no harm is done… except to _you_ , you poor dear. Worry about yourself for a change!

In the meantime, I have invented a most ingenious device (though I _do_ say so myself) which will enable you to ride your penny-farthing in both comfort and perfect safety once the fractures are all healed. I was about to go into some detail about that, but darling Ardsley is telling me to focus, so I shall! You may thank him for the fact that you are going to get a letter rather than an instruction manual for a device you do not yet own. He is excellent at telling sparks to focus; but then, he has had _rather_ a lot of practice.

So, of course, you will want to hear all about the wedding. Well, to begin with, Ardsley really wanted Gilgamesh Wulfenbach to be his best man; but sadly they did not exactly part on good terms, and so that was out of the question, as Ardsley admitted. He therefore chose his _next_ best friend, which meant that I have had the first wedding in England (as far as anyone knows) to have involved a best Jäger. It has to be said that Dimo does clean up rather well, although I’m not sure he likes that to be widely known. Maxim and Oggie acted as ushers, of course; those three are quite inseparable. We both knew there could be problems with Oggie, since, though he is rather adorable, it has to be said that his brain is not the best part of him. Still, we are two very intelligent people, so we felt that we could probably deal with them if they arose.

As a matter of fact, Maxim was very good at keeping a close eye on Oggie while at the same time handling his own responsibilities; but then, I suppose, he has had to keep an eye on Oggie for the last two or three hundred years. The actual service, you will be relieved to hear, went without a hitch. It was only once we were outside the church posing for the iconographer that things started to get… interesting.

This iconographer, you see, had some kind of technical problem with her equipment. Now, if I had been the only spark there, naturally I would have rushed in and fixed it for her; but, of course, Lady Heterodyne was there, and so we were exchanging looks from some little distance, each of us attempting to give way politely to the other. And, while we were doing that, in rushed Penhaligon, of all people. You haven’t yet met her, have you, dear? She’s thirteen. It seemed that all the excitement had caused her to break out as a spark. My dear, you cannot imagine how proud of her I was. She had the whole thing neatly laid out in pieces within five minutes.

So, of course, we all stood around in little groups chatting while she rebuilt it, and Ardsley introduced me to his Aunt Emmeline, whom I hadn’t yet met. She is Ardsley’s father’s older sister; quite a lot older, in fact, since _their_ father was widowed rather young and married again later in life, so she is almost old enough to be Ardsley’s grandmother rather than his aunt. She doesn’t hear very well, so she has a rather loud voice, and when she wants people to hurry up, she has a habit of telling them to gird up their loins. Quite a colourful character, in short; but she has a rather sad history. Her husband Septimus was no good at all, and in the end she had to throw him out. I understand there was a chorus girl involved, and it was by no means the first time such a thing had happened.

And I mention all of this because Septimus himself did, in fact, turn up.

Penhaligon was in full swing when it happened. Lady Heterodyne and I could both see what she was doing by now; she was turning the iconograph into a fully functioning clank, so that, rather than spending ages fiddling around with knobs and dials, the iconographer would just be able to tell it what to focus on and how. Also, she wouldn’t have to carry it around, because Penhaligon was giving it a set of four very ingenious legs. I must say the iconographer was looking a trifle bewildered, but I was sure she would be very happy once she got used to it.

And then Ardsley started to run his hands through his hair. He always does this when he’s worried about anything, and I have to say he is a _terrible_ worrier; no wonder his hair is always rather a mess. (Of course, I think he looks lovely anyway, but then I admit to being just a _little_ biased!) I followed his gaze to see what was bothering him, and there, as large as life and twice as drunk, was his ex-Uncle Septimus. He’d seen what was happening and just walked straight into the churchyard; there was, of course, nothing to stop him doing that, but he was _not_ wanted in the wedding party, and especially not by Aunt Emmeline.

She went quite white, and turned to the nearest Jäger, who happened to be Oggie. “Ognian!” she exclaimed. “Remove this man!”

“Vot?” said Oggie, who had been transfixed in fascination watching a large beetle that was crawling all over the back of the vicar’s surplice.

“Gird up your loins, Ognian!” Aunt Emmeline barked.

“How do hy do dot?” asked Oggie, by now completely baffled. Though, I must admit, it doesn’t take a great deal to baffle Oggie.

“Oh, shut up, Emmie,” Septimus slurred. “Ardsley! You getting married, and you didn’t invite your old uncle? Shame on you, boy!”

“You are no longer my uncle, Septimus,” replied Ardsley, with considerable dignity. “Please go away. Oggie, Aunt Emmeline is asking you to remove Septimus here, and if he doesn’t go by himself, then I am asking you the same thing.”

“Hokay… but… how do hy gird up my loins?”

Ardsley rolled his eyes. “Aunt Emmeline just wants you to hurry up, that’s all. And I, for one, don’t blame her. Now, Septimus. Are you going to leave quietly, or does Oggie have to throw you out?”

Septimus inspected Oggie unsteadily. “Think you can throw me out, do you, son?”

Oggie blinked. _“Vot?!”_

Ardsley sighed heavily. “He’s been drinking, Oggie. As usual.”

“Ho. Hokay.” Oggie paused. “Hey. Mister Septimus. Before hy t’row hyu out, ken hyu tell me vot hyu been drinkink? Must be der goot schtuff.”

We left them to it; it was more important to get Aunt Emmeline well away from her disreputable former husband than to watch Septimus being ejected. Nonetheless, we saw it anyway. I don’t know if Oggie got an answer to his question, but he picked Septimus up bodily and threw him so hard that he not only went over the churchyard wall, but also over the road that ran by the church. He ended up in a stand of rhododendron bushes in the garden opposite; and, a few minutes later, the irate householder emerged with a couple of large dogs. We decided that ought to keep him suitably distracted until such time as we were able to leave for the reception.

And that was going to have to be soon; we had hired a private bathycoach to convey everyone, and we couldn’t keep the driver waiting all afternoon. As a matter of fact, it was Dimo and Maxim who solved that particular difficulty. They went to talk to the verger, and returned with two wheelbarrows. Dimo loaded Penhaligon into one of them, and Maxim loaded her work in progress onto the other. She was so far gone that I’m not even sure she noticed. With the increasingly bemused iconographer trailing along behind, she continued working quite happily as the two Jägers pushed the wheelbarrows along side by side. When we arrived, of course, the best man is supposed to escort the head bridesmaid to the table. Dimo may possibly have been the first best man in history to require a wheelbarrow to do so; but one certainly couldn’t accuse him of shirking his responsibilities just because his dinner partner happened to be in a totally unexpected spark fugue. I can see exactly why Ardsley likes Dimo so much. I like him very much too.

He is not, however, much of a public speaker. He did, of course, have to make a speech; and it was valiantly well rehearsed. After a couple of minutes I hit on the idea of testing my little shorthand clank, which I had with me under the skirts of my wedding dress; I had, in fact, brought several clanks with me, because one never knows when one may need them. Here, then, is part of Dimo’s speech, as recorded by my little clank, just to give you some idea.

“Vell… vhere vos hy? Und if hyu dun schtop gigglink, Maxim, hy iz goink to knock hyu hat off… Ho, yez. Hy haz neffer done dis before, zo, hy asked der Tarvek vot hyu supposed to say, und he said hyu vos supposed to embarrass der bridegroom. Hy dun know if he iz right. Hy probably von’t have to aim to do dot inten… inshen… like hy mean to, becawse, as ve all know, Mister Vooster iz verra easy to embarrass. Vhen he vos in der Kestle… dot is Kestle Heterodyne, for dose of hyu vot dun know. Ektually, hy better tell hyu about der Kestle. Iz like a really beeg clenk vot hyu ken liff in, und it got sefferal different personalitiez und dey iz all pretty nasty. But de Mistress here, sche knows how to keep it under control. It gots to obey her becawse she is de Heterodyne. Und dis iz yust as vell, becawse it got all sorts of traps und pratfalls und schtuff und it really likes usink dem. Of cawse, it dun bodder us Jägers. Dis iz partly becawse ve iz Jägers und partly becawse de Mistress vould haff it forcibly redecorated if it did. Now...”

Maxim interrupted at this point. “Hyu iz supposed to be tokkink about Mister Vooster. Iz not der Kestle vot iz gettink married.”

“Und yust as vell,” replied Dimo, with feeling. “Ken hyu imagine it? Two of dem, und den, a leetle later, a whole lot of leetle Kestles runnink around seeink vhich of dem ken build de most deadly trap for unvary visitors?”

“Vould dey ektually run around?” Oggie enquired. “Hy mean, der Kestle dun do dot. It yust sits dere. Und dot iz bad enough.”

“Mebbe if dey vos leetle Kestles dey might,” replied Dimo. “Anyvay, dis iz meant to be my speech.”

“Hyu iz not makink it verra well,” observed Maxim, with ruthless accuracy.

“Ho, shot op,” said Dimo. “Vot vos hy tokkink about again?”

“Mister Vooster beink easy to embarrass,” said Maxim.

“Ho, yez. Vell, der Kestle gots a seraglio, und he had to go in dere vunce, und he vos verra embarrassed indeed. Hyu see, dere iz zum pictures in dere vot kind of go vit der t’eme of der place. Lots of nekkid pipple vit verra beeg...”

Ardsley coughed. “If you don’t mind, Dimo, perhaps not in front of Aunt Emmeline? Thank you. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Hyu see vot hy mean about him beink easily embarrassed,” said Dimo. That was, in fact, by far the best line of his speech.

And then there was the business with Lady Violetta Mondarev. Lady Violetta has been an excellent friend to Ardsley; in fact, I probably have her to thank that I had him alive to marry. Of course, she, too, has been missing someone intensely, and although she says Ardsley never talked about me, she had guessed that he was in a similar situation simply from the fact that he had no interest in finding romance with anyone else. (You _see_ , Celia, dear?) Ardsley, therefore, was very keen that she should get her long-standing wish at our wedding, which was to have a beautiful gown and to dance with all the young men. Lady Violetta is a Smoke Knight, and according to all those who know her a very good one; so her clothing is normally strictly practical to the point of scruffy.

I therefore took her under my wing some time before the wedding and took her to my own favourite dressmaker, who is a lady of quite astonishing ability. She can make anyone look good, even someone like Lady Violetta, whose normal relationship with clothes is to make them look as though they have been thrown onto her. The end result was a most beautiful purple gown with yards of tulle in the skirt and real amethysts adorning the sleeves. Lady Violetta was thrilled with it; but she did not want to wear it to the wedding itself in case she diverted attention from me, and so we agreed that I would arrange for a place where she could change into it between the wedding breakfast and the dancing.

So I did; and, my dear, she came out looking positively resplendent. Lady Heterodyne said at once that she wished Herr von Zinzer was present. Maxim at once stepped forward to ask her for the honour of the first dance. Ardsley thinks Maxim has been carrying something of a torch for Lady Violetta for some time, so neither of us was at all surprised.

All might have been well, but by way of thanks to the Jägers, we had given them each one of my specially designed hats, and all three of them had insisted on wearing them during the wedding and subsequent celebrations. Each of these hats was constructed in such a way that it would be fiercely loyal to its owner.

Maxim is something of a dandy. He loves to wear purple. And I have to tell you, dear, it is extraordinarily difficult to build a sense of ethics into a hat.

Before either of them could do anything, a sharp pair of scissors on a folding stem shot out of the brim of the hat and started snipping off Lady Violetta’s amethysts. She is, as I say, a Smoke Knight; she reacted faster than I would have believed possible. Even so, she was clearly not used to fighting hats, and especially not in such a way as to neutralise rather than destroy them. No matter how badly behaved the hat was, it was Maxim’s hat, and hats matter a great deal to a Jäger.

The other two Jägers piled into the fight; I am not certain they understood completely what was going on, but it was a fight, and they were Jägers, and that all made it very simple. A few minutes later, Lady Violetta was standing with the errant hat in one hand and a very severe expression on her face; Maxim had both hands on top of his head, clearly feeling quite naked without his hat; and Dimo and Oggie were exchanging baffled looks. At this precise moment, Penhaligon’s new improved iconograph scuttled up on its four hydraulic legs, positioned itself precisely, and snapped. I have no idea what anyone who did not happen to be there at the time will make of _that_ picture.

I am sorry to have to say that Lady Violetta’s beautiful gown was now in a very sad state. She had managed to save the amethysts, but the gown was cut and torn in several places. She looked down and realised what had happened. Smoke Knight or not, her lower lip started to tremble.

“Hey,” said Maxim gallantly. “Hyu iz schtill luffly. Zo dere.”

“Ja,” said Dimo. “Hyu iz. Ken hy haff der next dance after Maxim?”

“Und me next!” said Oggie.

When it comes to gallantry, Ardsley is not to be outdone. “I, too, should like a dance at some point, if I may,” he said, “but naturally, while you are dancing with the boys here, I shall be dancing with my wife.” He beamed.

Maxim draped a companionable purple arm around the stricken Lady Violetta. “Hey,” he said. “Hokay, de pretty dress got spoilt. But hyu schtill gets to dance vit all der boys, yust like hyu vanted.”

“Your. Hat,” she managed.

“Hy know,” said Maxim lugubriously. “Hy iz really sorry about my hat. Hy din know it vos goink to do dot.”

“I think I should be the one to apologise,” I said. “After all, I did build the thing. I will buy you a new gown myself.”

“Thank you, Trelawney,” said Lady Violetta, with a little sniff, “but I can’t wear it now.”

“Hyu ken vear my cloak,” Maxim suggested brightly. “Den it von’t be so obvious dot de dress iz damaged. Und it vill go verra nicely.”

She finally gave a little hint of a smile. “Maxim,” she said, “you’re sweet. Thank you.”

Mercifully, we managed to get through the rest of the celebrations with no further incident, except, of course, for Penhaligon dismantling one of the clocks and building another small clank; but by now we were rather expecting that. Penhaligon does not like dancing, and was vaguely aware that it was going on, and so – as she later informed me – she built the clank so that it could dance on her behalf. I’m pleased to say it was rather good.

Lady Heterodyne did offer us the loan of Castle Heterodyne for our honeymoon; but Ardsley declined that offer very politely but firmly. Having heard about the Castle from some of the others, I am glad he did. He and the Castle do not get on well, and I would not wish to spend my honeymoon in a building that dislikes my husband. Consequently we took the subtrain up to Snowdonia like everyone else, where we had a perfectly idyllic time.

I am not planning to go adventuring again for quite a while; but you shall not be deprived of your main source of income, nonetheless. I have just had a very long letter from Penhaligon telling me all about a device she invented at school, and once I have invented a reliable copying device I shall send you a copy of it, with her permission, of course. There is quite certainly enough material for a book of the usual length. May I suggest for a title _Penhaligon Thorpe, Young Spark of the Realm, and the Netball Clank_? Very sensible of her, too, if I may say so. I was no keener on sports at school than she is. I wish I had dared to build a clank to play netball for me.

I shall come and visit you at some point in the next few days. Let me know if you would prefer flowers or grapes; I know not to buy you chocolates, though why you should worry so much about your weight is quite beyond me. I hope all the fractures are healing well, but if you should require a mechanical limb or anything of that sort, you know you have only to ask.

And now I really must go, because Ardsley has saved me the crossword in the newspaper, and if I don’t hurry up and do it he will be fidgeting, because I know how much he wants to do it himself. What a dear sweet man he is! I shall buy him a whole book of them for Christmas, as a little stocking filler.

With all my very best wishes

Trelawney Wooster.


End file.
